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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812275">Selfish Prayers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbbys/pseuds/mahbbys'>mahbbys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lucifer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Porn, Body Worship, Character Study, Chloe is Lucifer's focus but Lucifer is the focus of the fic, Cunnilingus, Emotional Porn, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Fingering, Lucifer Feels, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) is Bad at Feelings, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) is Good at Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Mythology References, Oral Sex, POV Lucifer, POV Third Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Puns &amp; Word Play, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Metaphors, Smut, Soft Oral Sex, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Devil Likes to Mix it Up, Worship, listening to Hozier is really partially to blame for this thing's existence, mixed metaphors, the author is going to hell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:08:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,813</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24812275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahbbys/pseuds/mahbbys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>***<br/>"...dazed and drunken as a fanatic on the holy honeyed wine that's anointing him...</p><p>His hand is below, lazily making with dirty work of its own, not quite pious enough."<br/>***</p><p>It's late afternoon and Lucifer is spending it in the penthouse worshipping Chloe.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Selfish Prayers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sooooo... I might be writing again?</p><p>May as well come back with a bang.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The world is blue-black and bright gold here, blurred lines of light and dark, soft and hard. Warm shadows and cool Santa Ana winds are swept between arrows of sunlight shot and scattered across the high rooms.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>It's the golden hour of an L.A. afternoon and he's building an altar between 2 ivory pillars of warm alabaster.</p>
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p>In stark contrast to them is the makeshift altar cloth - a sheet of rich black silk, (quickly dampening, to his delight) that's spread taut beneath her. It's the only fabric near flesh, all others previously divested as he'd carried her in their pilgrimage to the bedroom. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p></p>
    <div>
      <p>The journey ended with her sprawled across the silk, exposed to his ignoble gaze, but unabashed. He's heavy in hand with the weight of that. Her feet are flat on the mattress, and her legs are the gently bent architecture of a pylon, beckoning him inside. Finally laid bare before him, nestled in the center of it all, is the shrine he's been seeking. The only one he's chosen for his devotion. </p>
    </div>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>He's brought easily to his knees, humbled and reverent, willingly-pledged fealty on the tip of his hungry tongue.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>His mouth is watering at the very thought of his offering, but first he drags a rough cheeked invocation against the rounded edge of the column of thigh to his right. He's thrilled to be graced with a gasp, the slight hill of her abdomen quivering in anticipation of what all veneration he has in store. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Slowly he plants a soft breathy kiss to her skin nearest his left cheek, then bows his head as he trails a long finger up through the warm font before him. He's too in awe to quite know where to begin, no matter how many times he's peformed this ritual. A quiet half-moan escapes from her, breaking the silence and closing his eyes. It compels his cock to twitch, summons his tongue to dart out and wet his lips.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>His eyes open again and he pulls his hand back, fingertip slicked. He fervently drops his lips to the cup before him, his tongue dipping out flat to pull manna flowing into his eager mouth. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>She trembles with an uttered curse and he swears the whole world shakes.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p></p>
    <div>
      <p>He pulls her closer, and then his dominant hand drops away, past the edge of the bed, as he draws her more fully into and against his mouth. Far too soon he's entranced by the musky incense, easily dazed and drunken as a fanatic on the holy honeyed wine that's anointing him, coating down his chin. He's left intoxicated and tingling as blood rushes even faster past his ears, further away from his brain. </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>His hand is below, lazily making with dirty work of its own, not quite pious enough.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>Her heels dig in to shimmy her even closer to him and he almost smiles. She grinds against his face in joyful benediction so he praises her harder. He slides his right foot back to drop him further in subservient prostration. His left arm grips round her shin and thigh, holding them tight together, and his hand drags her bent knee farther from his face, opening her up to him and changing the angle. The silk beneath them shifts as her own left hand grips it tight in reply. He carefully continues his task, knowing she's pleased with his work.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>Here, cloistered beneath her hood, he is her dutiful, solitary monk, walled away from the world and dedicated lifelong. A silent vow of fidelty, eagerly entered into everytime, recreates him again as hers. Chastity, poverty - he gladly and willfully forfeits anyone, any<em>thing</em> but her. All he possesses, everything he is, belongs to her and her only. He is, and will continue to be, assiduous in his worship, studious and unflagging. Every machination ardently done in her name, every breath in his lungs a lifted prayer to her.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>He's not sure which of them is shaking. </p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>She gratifies him with a broken moan of his name, and he offers his heart up willingly to slaughter, would render his essence unto the void, for a repetition of the sound.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p>Her eyes are dark and heavy with lust as they scan over him, and her hands go up to play against her own swollen nipples. He groans from deep in his throat, a noise half animal, and both his hands involuntarily tighten.</p>
    </div>
    <div>
      <p></p>
      <div>
        <p></p>
        <div>
          <p>Her existence commands more than any simple, solitary altar. He's given a vision of what he could do for her and he intends it done. He will build a temple here - brick by lick - and it will be the greatest attestation, a bright and shining wondrous thing like nothing the world has ever seen.</p>
        </div>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He hums sweet supplication against her clit,  petitioning her favor, urging her upward, informing her what he wishes to do for her.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>Her hand comes down to thread a blessing through his wavy hair, and as it tightens with instruction, he groans again and crushes even harder against her, sealing them together. His left hand slithers down and between her calf and ass, before snakeing back over and around to press down solidly at her pelvic bone.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He adjusts his weight so he can watch without changing pace as she lifts up on her elbows from the bed, her breasts shaking with the movement. Her hair is a messy glow of a halo in the sun and it falls across her cheek. She looks down on him from above, pupils dilated wide, brow furrowed, skin flushed golden pink and tan. She is beautifully otherworldly. She's muttering in tongues even he doesn't know, her hands shaking as one weaves further into his hair, brushing delicate fingers against the nape of his neck, and the other closes in a fist full of silk. </p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>Her swollen lips keep moving in a murmur of conjurations he can't quite hear from the shelter of her thighs, can't make out over the sound of his own panting. All too soon, she breaks their mutual gaze as she bites her lower lip and throws her head back.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He's momentarily bereft by the loss of her eyes only to be quickly rewarded. Suddenly all of her is pushing and pulling and pulsing all around him, and she cries out - mouth wide open now he can tell -  her legs spasming around his ears.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He holds on to her loosely, and takes his tongue for a slow plunge into her, as he guides her gently back to Earth. Her movements become less urgent and her muscles relax around him, but she's still restless and breathless with need. </p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He sighs with pleasure against her and leaves a mess of wet kisses around this sanctuary, preparing the space for the next round of exalted prayers.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He runs his wet bottom lip up one inner thigh, breathing her in and watching her aftershocks, studious follower once again. His fingers skim along her ribs and pelvis.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>Her skin is a heady mix of scents and he inhales her. She smells like earthy mint of Eden, seed-heavy sunflowers from the Silver City. But under all that, unexpected and drawing his attention, is a hint of his own cedar soap on her. She's hoisted his banner atop a pole from ancient Lebanon, declaring this land his, and it sends sharp darts of pleasure sailing through to strike his core. </p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>Instantly he's dizzy and hungry and needs to feast again in this hallowed garden, sooner than he otherwise might. He nips at the meaty flesh near her knee for strength, before dropping again to greedily, unceremoniously, suck the fruit from the pomegranate seed. His eyes close as he relishes the piquant juice on his tongue.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>Her hips buck beneath him from heightened sensitivity. He opens his eyes again and watches silently as her hands scramble for purchase, her back arcing like a rainbow. </p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>His half-forgotten right hand lets go of his cock, and somehow he's turned even that into a purely selfish gesture. Because he is no good monk, really, with humility in his faith. </p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>No. Most definitely not.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He is in honesty an insatiable zealot. He is desire incarnate, desperately prideful and covetous. He's a builder of Babel, hubristic and ambitious.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He wants to gratify and exalt her as no one else has or can, wants for his to be the grandest of temples, the only one she graces. He wants his gifts to be the choicest, which praise her and raise her higher than any before or after. He let go not in strength, but in weakness, caving in to the sin of the more powerful lust - the lust for being her chosen favorite, rival to none, singled out for reciprocated patronage. </p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He craves to see his temple's tower the tallest, and at its height, his banner waving in air the scent of cedar, immediately known to all who dare question the claim of the land and the wonders within it.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p></p>
        <div>
          <p>The burning sinew in his jaw will be his burnt offering, the sting of her nails across his back a substitute for an athame razored cross his palm. He will christen this temple with sweat and spit, and frantically whispered rites of devotion.</p>
        </div>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>Red-handed, he moves quickly back to a kneeling stance, not quite so prostrate before her. He has to momentarily fast from her taste, and his mouth feels deprived at the loss, but he has work to do and needs to put his back into it.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He wraps his right arm in the same snake-like figure-eight to meet and join with his other. His fingers entwine in a woven pattern and he lifts her to close any remaining space between them, backs of her thighs brushing against his shoulders. His forearms are taut, pulse visible in the veins if she were to look for it. </p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He anchors her body, and she half-blithely watches as he does, stupefaction of bliss coursing through her from his attention. He presses her hips down into the mattress. His muscle working from memory, he doesn't even realize his eyebrow jerks up in just a bit of a tease as he licks his lips.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He is her creation, and this is what she created him to do. </p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He is renewed and enthusiastic with purpose. Her hips buck again, but this time have nowhere to go. Simultaneously, she huffs out a moan and curls her toes, which push into his ribs. Her hands clamber around his arms and her legs even as she's urging him on, begging him with a breaking voice not to stop.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p></p>
        <div>
          <p>He loses himself in urges. Secretly he wishes himself Samson, wanting to cause those shuddering ivory pillars he's wrapped his arms around to come crashing down altogether. He wants to smother himself in the destruction of her collapsing around him, crumbling at his touch.</p>
        </div>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>In her squirming, she unintentionally increases the friction, and in reflex she drags her nails deep into the trapezius muscle between his neck and shoulder. It stings beautifully and his body reacts despite his bold intentions. With his hands busy, he's left to rut, searching out soft cloth and warm air, like the dirty, thirsty animal he is.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>Baser even than he realized, he growls, inhuman, as he stoops to lap from this holiest river, needing to be quenched. He is hot and ravenous with craving for yet more of a taste of her divinity. </p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>She is trembling from the inside out. Her legs kick and quake, and a joyful noise, half laugh and half squeal, bubbles out of her perfect mouth. The glorious mounds of her ass float up from the bed, even as his arms weigh her down, and he jerks them slightly to his shoulders.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>He loosens his fingers enough to push his thumb across her clit, while his tongue delves inside her. It's a series of harsh notes, but he plays them well.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>She comes with a shout, ripping the sheet away from the mattress with her fists.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p></p>
        <div>
          <p>Her legs are tight against him, but his arms hold tighter. Her ankles are crossed against his back, and her thighs vibrate and weaken his equilibrium.</p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>He's holding an earthquake still at its epicenter, and it takes everything he has to keep up. He's still strumming her like an instrument, determined to finish the song.</p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>She looks at him as she cries out his name again, the last syllable drawn out over several seconds of keening.</p>
        </div>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>The sound of it is salt and fire at the roots of his good intentions. It is his utter corruption. </p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>Greed and need overtake him fully, and he is debauched. He knows his grin against her is filthy and wicked, knows she's seen it, but he continues, even as her whole body is shaking. She is still answering prayers.</p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p>
          <em>"oh fu... ye... more... need... gon... again... don't fucking stop ...<strong>please</strong>"</em>
        </p>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p></p>
        <div>
          <p>He gleefully fucks her with his tongue, and her lower back lifts entirely off the bed in her eagerness for him to. He moves his thumb out of the way, and instead sucks a bruising rhythm onto her clit. Her body is torn between running away and crushing into him, and it shakes apart in indecision. </p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>He growls and jerks her ass to the edge of the bed, throwing off her center of gravity so he can free his hand again without letting her get away. He holds her upright with his shoulders and one hand, a living plinth, and his other hand comes down below his mouth.</p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>She leans into the movement, and becomes an arch, spanning from his shoulders and her own. He slides a finger into her easily, then two, pushing them in tune to the pulse he's sucking. A wild sound leaves her throat and blossoms into something close to a snarl. It's not a sound he's heard from her before, but it's one he already has plans to hear again.</p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>He watches in a half-mad daze as a small bead of sweat runs from her navel down to the valley between her breasts, pausing at the hollow of her throat, before her elbows bend and her hips drop what little they can. She's back up, and the droplet rolls down under a breast and away. He makes a strangled sound and mindlessly rolls his hips along with it. He rocks into the bed with a short grunt and the whole mattress shifts.</p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>She jerks her hips against him, driving his fingers deeper, and clawing for his shoulders. Again and again she rocks her hips. Again and again, his name is on her lips as she clenches and convulses and comes.</p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>Her need is so brazen that he's never been harder, could nearly come along with her, untouched.</p>
        </div>
      </div>
      <div>
        <p></p>
        <div>
          <p>Eventually her keening changes pitch and quiets, though doesn't stop, and her breathing changes with a quick hitch of her chest. She is nothing but mindless vibrations by this point, and the force of her orgasm has crested, leaving them both battered. </p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>He shakily eases her back. She lets out a sad gasp as he carefully slides his fingers from her. His hands move up to placate and stroke her sides. He doesn't want to shock her system by removing his mouth without ceremony, so instead he gentles its movement, like crashing waves abated to a softly lapping tide, and kisses her without overwhelming.</p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>Once she's somewhat calmed and her breathing isn't coming in such spasmodic gasps, he twists to his right and kisses a path up the pulse in her left thigh. He carefully straightens and slightly lifts her leg, fingers feather light as they move along her calf in tandem with wet pecks of his mouth. He presses a kiss into a hollow of her ankle, then sets her leg down tenderly on the disturbed silk before repeating the whole process with her right leg.</p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>He comforts her with careful and delicate movements, that belie his own still burning desire. She's humming and mindlessly running her fingers over her breasts and abdomen and sheet and anything else within her reach.</p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>She looks at him and his entire unworthy being wrenches at the sight. With that look, she could but give the word, and he would damn every last kingdom to ash and eat his own heart.</p>
        </div>
        <div>
          <p>She hooks her index finger around his and pulls. As surely as the moon controls the tides, he's rising like a Titan for her from the dark pool of sheets left in her wake. She reaches out and encircles him as he kneels again for her, this time on the bed alongside her. She pulls him closer and he's definitely Atlas, with the world in his arms. But this is worse than any punishment, it's an undeserved reward, and his hands shake as he struggles to hold it the way it should be held.</p>
        </div>
      </div>
    </div>
  </div>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I swear I didn't so much write this as transcribe a firsthand transmission shot into my brain directly from Lux. I don't feel like it's even similar to my other stuff, but I don't know. </p><p>As fans of the show know, Lucifer won't STFU, so there might be a second part/chapter at some point with a "happier ending" for him (wink, nudge), but no promises.</p><p>(Also, hi, I'm not dead.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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